


Something Constant

by Harmonious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious/pseuds/Harmonious
Summary: Rebuilding one’s noble house isn’t as easy as it sounded, more-so when she willingly gets herself engaged with the lord of the underground. And yet she finds herself not minding—after all, if she was capable of making breakthroughs in magical research, understanding love and marriage should be as easy! Right?
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Constance von Nuvelle
Comments: 36
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have many thoughts on Yuri and Constance's paired ending, so I guess the purpose of this story is to elaborate on those thoughts

Constance shut the book in front of her, then dusting off the dirt that came in contact with her palms. She allowed her eyes to rest, leaning her arms on the table to let her mind recharge from hours of working.

Her thoughts wandered to images of what was once the beautiful territory of Nuvelle. She fondly remembered the port town situated at the western edge of the Adrestian region, the calming sounds of the waves from the shoreline, all the pleasant memories she had with her family. . .

Perhaps, it would have already pulled her to sleep, had it not been for her instincts waking her up with the presence of someone beside her.

She opened her eyes, completely expecting a set of lavender ones staring back at her. She guessed correctly.

"Hmm, I made sure to enter the room as quietly as I can."

She sighed, pulling her head upright. "Can't find anyone else to bother at this time, Yuri?"

"Ouch, you wound me," he remarked with a mock hurt tone, "Is that any way to speak with your future spouse?"

Warmth traveled to her cheeks. Their conversation, despite it happening months ago, was still fresh in her head. It was the first time he brought the topic out to light since then.

"C-cease your mocking. I will not have any of that, especially at this trying hour."

She almost regretted her words as she witnessed his gaze lowering, a drop from his usual facade. As if he felt really hurt, this time.

"I told you, I was not mocking. I was absolutely serious about my proposal." And in just a second, his face shifted, eyes looking at her more confidently, devoid of any vulnerability. "Anyway, if you're tired, you should just retire for the night and go to bed."

"You are aware this is rather early for me."

With their years of living in the Abyss together, they were familiar with one another's sleeping schedules. Balthus didn't really have a set time for sleeping and would do so whenever he pleased; meanwhile Hapi would retire to her bed as soon as the sun fell. She and Yuri were the same in a sense that they were basically night owls.

"Besides, I cannot afford to have plentiful rest and idle time if I wish to restore my house the soonest." She meant it seriously. It had been weeks since their victory over the Immaculate One. With the emperor's brilliance and leadership, the lands of Fodlan were starting to be reunited. That of course meant there was no room for her to be slacking off too.

He merely shrugged. "I'm not saying you shouldn't work hard on your little research. That's admirable, really, even after so many years you haven't changed at all! I'm just saying maybe it's time to deal with your sleeping habits."

"You're the one to talk," she snapped back, earning her a grin.

"But it isn't me who'll be dealing with those nobles during daylight. I'm sure they'd appreciate having official appointments during the day."

She frowned, his words sinking in. He was right.

She stood, stacking the pieces of parchment she had been memorizing for the past hours. From the corner of her eyes, she knew he was smirking in triumph. The insufferable bird.

"Yuri."

"Hmm?"

"You are absolutely serious?"

His features softened, the corners of his lips lowering.

"I may have been known to use deceit or whatever means to get what I want, but you have my word that I have only been expressing what my heart speaks of."

"My, such flowery words from you." She chuckled, before looking away. "But what would you do? If somehow, I actually end up unsuccessful in my endeavors? Especially now that simply restoring my house doesn't provide any assurances of reaching greater heights in this new age?"

From the corners of her eyes she saw Yuri surveying the surroundings, making her look at him again, much to her confusion. He quickly noticed her reaction.

"I'm just checking if somehow, it's actually morning and some sun rays have miraculously hit you all the way down here."

She gave him an unamused look. He showed a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. What I meant to say is that I didn't expect to hear that from you. Why are you suddenly doubting yourself? Where's that over-the-top, confident lady that I know too well?"

She shook her head. "It's not that I doubt. I am merely considering possibilities. Tying yourself up with me means you will immerse yourself in my affairs . . . and all that is me. It's not something as simple as accepting an invitation for tea."

"I know. It's a commitment. Like a commitment of sharing tea or sewer water with you and only you for the rest of our lives."

"Precisely."

"I am aware. I have given my answer, haven't I?"

It was true. Even without any expected returns, Yuri had already taken the dive for her, anyway. Sinking deep into the ocean to attain one of the keys that she wanted even when she hadn't given assurances that she'd prioritize pulling him out rather than said key.

"Don't feel too pressured. I wouldn't blame you if you somehow doubt my intentions."

Despite the seemingly heavy words, he was pacing behind her nonchalantly, hands behind his back. She eyed him closely. Yuri had often been hard to read. He tended to mask his real emotions, a skill she knew he learned—or rather, he _needed_ to learn—to reach the heights he was currently standing on. It was an impressive ability, she had to admit, though could also be highly irritating especially when she often could not tell the difference between mockery and sincerity.

Without warning, he dragged a chair and sat too closely beside her that his face pretty much invaded her line of vision. By reflex she moved her head away, though it really didn't do much since he moved the same, studying her face.

"So you really are doubtful, huh?"

Before she could react, he pushed the seat noisily behind him, giving them ample personal space again. He stood.

"Anyway, I guess I really can't prove to you anything with just words. But let me just repeat that I did what I wanted to, just like what I've been always doing for most of my life. I mean, I understand if you don't want any of me, who has nothing—"

"I did not say that—!"

She no longer saw his face as he began to walk towards the door. Quick to react despite her fatigue, she followed after him.

"Guess I'll just wait for your answer then—"

"First of all, I think you are more than what you claim to be. And _second_ , do not make it seem like I have not been thinking of this for I am giving you my answer right this moment!"

Her voice echoed in the enclosed space of her provisional magical facility—to be precise, it had been the spacious area behind the blackboard of their Ashen Wolves classroom. Since no one really used it much after the war, Yuri allowed her to modify it as she pleased.

She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling conscious about the whole situation, but a small part of her rejoiced since Yuri completely stopped in his tracks.

"I, I say it would not hurt to agree with the plans of someone I trust such as yourself."

He turned to face her, mouth gaping open briefly before he recovered. For that moment she was certain he was genuinely surprised.

"So you're saying you want to give this a shot?"

Her cheeks grew warm again.

"However, I regret to say that I am inexperienced with matters about love, so I may have to rely on you for that."

He chuckled. It annoyed her how her cheeks felt warmer by the second.

"Alright." He winked, smiling, though his eyes lacked the teasing quality they usually had. "You can count on me then."

* * *

The next time they saw each other, it was Constance who made the first approach.

The exchange began with a knock on the door. Upon hearing his response, she entered the men's quarters. Her eyes briefly scanned the unkempt desk filled with empty bottles and various assorted chips undoubtedly used in gambling.

"It seems our dearest friend Balthus did not bother vacating his belongings the moment he departed from Abyss."

"Did you honestly expect him to?" Yuri remarked, who was already plopped onto the bed. "To be fair they aren't exactly belongings—more like trash."

"Haha! It makes me think I am fortunate to have Hapi as a roommate." She settled herself on the chair in front of a much cleaner desk—obviously it belonged to Yuri. "Anyhow, have you not thought of cleaning them up?"

"Not really. Ever since the war ended we're the only Wolves that stayed here. Kinda makes the room less lonely seeing them."

She nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Well, milady," he said, sitting up from where he had been lying on, "I'm sure your visit serves another purpose apart from commenting on the status of my living quarters. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She looked at him closely, and he seemed to be actually waiting for her response. She sighed. It was as if their conversation the previous night had not happened. . .

"Drop the formalities," she decided to say, trying to keep things less awkward, "Or are you simply teasing me again?"

"Ah, very good. You caught me."

He laughed, a seemingly hearty sound escaping his lips, but she didn't miss how tired his eyes looked as he did.

"Had a long day?" she asked.

"Mhmm."

Silence. It seemed he no longer wished to elaborate. She decided on the next approach.

"I was thinking of brewing some tea." Albinean berries to be precise. They were both fond of that, she knew. "Or if you are not too tired, would you perhaps wish to accompany me for a walk at the surface?"

It took time for Yuri to respond back that she prepared herself for the possibilities of both her offers being rejected. Perhaps some other day—?

"Hmm, tea sounds nice. But maybe a walk would do me better."

And with that he sat up, straightening the creases from his clothes. She tried to hide her smile as she followed after him.

They walked alongside each other in silence, their steps echoing as they passed through the tunnels up until they reached the stairway. She couldn't tell if he thought it was strange of her to suddenly extend invitations out of the blue, but she figured she should just enjoy the rare moments of tranquility between them. She had a long day too.

Soon enough, she felt the midnight winds brushing past her face as they neared the surface, as if welcoming her to the broader landscape and skies.

"You surprised me."

She raised an eyebrow. Yuri was quick to clarify.

"I recall milady saying that she was inexperienced with love matters, yet here she is taking the first step."

She flicked her hair away as she tried to hide her embarrassment.

"You take me for some ordinary maiden who would wait idly to be courted? I firmly believe it is equally our duty to get to know each other better if we're keen on this engagement, and whoever initiates it should matter not."

"Heh. You really are one-of-a-kind. Absolutely unlike most noble women I've dealt with."

"I hope you mean that in a positive way."

"But of course. I wouldn't choose to tie myself up with someone I didn't like."

With his words, she recalled exactly what she had been meaning to discuss with him.

"Yuri. . ."

"Hmm?"

She pursed her lips together before taking a deep breath.

"I like you, I really do."

"Whoa, you _are_ full of surprises! Having confessions now, are we? Because what do you know? I like you too, Constance."

He remarked his words with such animated outlandishness which she might have admonished on other occasions. And yet she remained unfazed, continuing to speak what's on her mind.

"Tell me, then. Is "liking" enough?"

Five long seconds passed before he spoke again, as he simply eyed her curiously.

"Isn't it? I mean, I wouldn't want to spend my life with someone I hate."

His response was far calmer, said so casually that at least she was certain he was being genuine. It somehow lessened the tension she was feeling about their situation.

"You know that's not what I mean. Despite how often we may squabble, you are my friend."

"As you are to me," he responded without any second thoughts, "Your point being?"

"This is marriage, Yuri. Will you really be fine with such arrangements?"

It gave her mixed feelings watching how seemingly calm he was with the whole situation. A tinge of anxiety, she recognized, was present; she had a bad habit of overthinking things, after all. Another feeling was a strange sense of relief . . . It was _Yuri_ , after all, who, despite getting on her nerves most of the time, was someone she knew she could trust, someone she could rely on.

"Do recall that I'm the one who suggested it. If anything _I_ should be the one asking you that question."

"But I already agreed! So right now my question is not about my uncertainties about being with you. . . It's you being with me. Assuming everything falls exactly as we planned, what about you?"

"What about me? I will be known as Yuri von Nuvelle. Has a nice ring to it, actually."

"Yuri!" she remarked, cheeks flushing warmly. How she wished he would take her more seriously!

He laughed. "Well, wouldn't I? Anyway I'm afraid I can't really follow your point. Care to spell it out for me?"

She hesitated, looking at the surroundings first. They were almost at the greenhouse. Apart from an imperial guard that passed by, no other souls were in sight.

"Your. . . Moniker. Underground. I am aware how much the citizens of Abyss mean to you, so I am certain you wouldn't leave them hanging once we get married. Doesn't becoming a noble go against your goals?"

"Not exactly. Whatever name I hold shouldn't really matter with my dealings underground. I mean, sure, it'll probably be more challenging to hide stuff since "Yuri" would become part of the society, but that's the price I have to pay for the comforts I seek. In the end that's _my_ problem, so better leave that to me."

He turned to her, just as they settled themselves on the bench facing the fishing pond.

"Unless you'd hate for your house to be associated with the likes of someone such as myself?"

Her eyes widened at his insinuation. "You'd think I'm that shallow—!"

With a cheeky grin he silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips.

"So now, allow me to return the question to you, dear Constance. Are you certain about me? Getting married to a _no name_?"

Ignoring the heavy emphasis of his last words, she brushed off his hand away from her face.

"As I was saying, it offends me that you think I possess that level of shallowness. You are aware that _I_ am aware of what you are truly capable of." Refusing to meet his gaze, she shifted her eyes to the pond, the moonlight reflecting on its surface. "And just this once, I am willing to shower you with sincere compliments if that is what you are seeking for."

"Hmm, a tempting offer, but you don't need to. I'm already flattered to confirm that someone of your calibre thinks so highly of someone so insignificant such as myself."

"I plead to you to stop these silly acts of deprecation."

He chuckled.

"Fine, _fine_. But my point is . . . the rest of the world, they don't exactly know the secrets that you know about me. I'm sure there will be _whispers_. Unpleasant ones, I bet."

"And what of it?" The breeze swept over her skin, making her shiver. She brushed her palms against her arms. ". . .Not like that's anything new."

From her periphery she observed how Yuri stretched his arms, finally resting them on the bench's support just behind her. "It would be a lot easier for you if, say, you get tied up with another noble. Not to disregard all your efforts, of course, but I'm sure you know there are advantages of already holding onto an existing name. Adjoin territories with an existing noble, and coupled with your efforts in magical advancements, boom, House Nuvelle has its comeback the soonest, just like you've dreamed of."

"So you are saying that I can make use of my hypothetical noble husband's already existing name to heighten my chances of attaining peerage from the emperor?"

"Exactly. Being raised in a noble house, I'm certain you are not a stranger to the idea of political marriages."

"That matters not," she quickly dismissed, already feeling irritated by what he was insinuating. "Especially in this new social order. I'm sure you are aware of that as well."

"I am, but I'm certain you also recognize you would still gain an upper hand by being connected with a noble, especially now that we're still at the dawn of the new age. Time is essential. You need to recognize all the available cards to attain your goals."

She turned to meet his gaze. He was staring back at her, waiting for her answer.

"Allow me clarify that as keen as I am to achieve my goals, I would like to experience a real marriage."

Yuri opened his mouth to say something, but she continued to speak.

"Ideally," she added. "However, if, by some unavoidable circumstances I were to enter a marriage of convenience, regardless of the person's nobility, I'd rather be with someone in the same wavelength as I am. I value someone's morals, character, and competence over their superficial titles."

"Wow," he remarked, and she knew a smirk was growing on his lips. "Was that a compliment, just now?"

She looked away, feeling flustered. "Why do I feel as if you are regretting making this marriage proposal with me? Already trying to sell me off to other nobles so I will change my mind?"

"I'm not!" he said, "You are absolutely mistaken; it's the other way around, actually. I'm merely laying out all the possibilities. Just testing if you'll be able to keep the end of your bargain."

"You know I abhor owing anybody, so of course I would. Besides, it's not like I can do anything now since you've set everything in motion already."

"Well, you actually can. You have every right to refuse."

She crossed her arms. "And then what? You would plunge your blade at me the moment I divert myself to another path?"

She was expecting that usual, irritating smile to appear on his face; however, she was surprised to witness something else. His eyes. . .seemed sad?

"Hey, I wouldn't be _that_ extreme."

He gave off a chuckle that bellowed from his core.

"You'll break my heart, though."

His words had been voiced in his usual casual tone that she wondered if he would follow it up with remarks that he was only saying it in jest. A part of her wished he would, which meant he was feigning hurt. . .

Yet he said nothing else, his gaze stuck on the body of water in front of them. Again, she couldn't tell what was really on his mind. . .

The cool midnight winds surged again. It sent shivers in her spine that she found herself leaning backwards, making her back brush against his arm. In other circumstances, she figured he would have taken the chance to tease her, possibly pull her closer even. . .Yet he didn't. She wasn't certain if she should be happy about that.

"Anyway, those are all hypothetical situations," she said, hoping to shift the mood. "Right now, there is no other path."

"Lovely, then. I have you all for myself."

She found it both admirable and annoying how he could say such things with a straight face.

"Y-yes. For now, we shall proceed to that. . .procedure of yours."

Her remark was met with silence, unusual from someone like him that it made her look to him again. He looked completely confused.

"'Procedure. . .?'" he said slowly. For some reason, she felt more flustered as the seconds passed.

"Y-you are a smart one," she snapped, embarrassed how her speech faltered once more, "Figure it out yourself!"

With a huff, she sat straight, moving herself away from the bench, only for Yuri's arm to pull her back and make her lean on him.

"Ah! I remember now. How I said we should start off as lovers."

As expected, he got it correctly. She made no sound of affirmation nevertheless, as she fully expected him to tease her about it. . .

But to her surprise, the arm around her shoulder uncurled away, and his hand moved towards the side of her arm, the touch of his palm trickling her skin. His fingers began to tap rhythmically against her arm, and the odd, playful gesture sent her heart racing at higher intervals.

"You're really all about procedures, aren't you?"

"It's simply the way I learn best," she said, ignoring the fact how red her cheeks must've been already. It didn't matter; it was dark, and from the angle, she doubted he could see her face anyway. "What, are you taking that against me?"

"Well, no," he said, "Actually, I find that trait of yours rather charming."

She no longer responded, and silence filled the air once more. His fingers continued to brush against her. It was strangely soothing, calming. Perhaps, those were also perfect words to describe that moment.

In the midst of it, she let all their prior conversations sink within her. The feelings were at least mutual, so perhaps they were likely on the right track. . . ? She couldn't say for certain; perhaps they would only really know when they cross that particular bridge. . . 

With her mind swimming with thoughts, she did not realize how much her body had already relaxed against his and how he let her, that one breezy midnight.


	2. Chapter 2

One night, Constance threw him a question that almost made him spill the cup of tea on his hand.

“Yuri, what exactly do lovers do?”

He held his urge to grin. It was the sort of question that invited several different responses which would certainly send her over the edge if he decided to tell them. Funny, because for Yuri, Constance was definitely among the most intelligent persons he encountered in his life—which said a lot, considering the amount of people he had met. Her little question made him think about the different kinds of intelligence that existed; not everyone was capable of mastering the vast repertoire of magical spells she knew, but her innocence gleamed in certain subjects.

“It depends,” he ended up replying, then taking a sip from his cup as he observed her. 

If she thought how oddly lenient he was for not taking the chance to tease her, it didn’t show. Instead, she kept that pondering expression she usually had when she was deeply thinking about her experiments. Perhaps seeing it was also the reason why he took her question seriously.

“It can range from anything mild,” he continued, “like taking nice romantic strolls in town, enjoying some scenery together, eating at some fancy restaurant—anything actually, as long as both are involved and get to spend some time with each other’s presence.”

She slowly nodded, her eyes fixed on her cup of tea. Her fingers repeatedly played with its ceramic handle.

“Then can we consider what we are doing at present as a romantic night between lovers?” 

His eyebrow perked up. It had been a week since their conversation by the greenhouse. While Constance mostly stayed in Abyss to continue her research, he often traveled to nearby towns to settle different businesses during the day, only returning by night time. Since they did have their own things to attend to, they agreed that having tea at night would be the most convenient way for them to bond. It was something they had already been doing for the past days without any qualms whatsoever, so it rather surprised him that she brought it up. 

“Hmm.” He chuckled, his voice briefly echoing in the enclosed space. “I could argue about the romantic part, honestly.” 

The cold, murky walls of their classroom filled with dusty books and various junk were far from romantic. The candlelight between them was likely their only saving grace. 

“But we are spending our time with each other,” he continued, “so technically, this can still be considered like those mild examples I mentioned.”

When she didn’t respond, he took another sip. The brittle clank as he placed back the cup on its saucer resounded in the room. Perhaps it was _too_ quiet; then again, it’s not like there were any minstrels around to make the air more colorful.

“Why raise the question? Don’t tell me you miss me during the day?”

As he expected, his remark caused her cheeks to flush.

“I am just a bit puzzled as to where we stand!” She looked away. “I mean, I feel like this is something we could also be doing as friends.”

He didn’t point out how she didn’t deny missing him. Her fingers continued brushing nervously against her cup. 

“Well, friends often don’t go out of their way to allot time for something like this everyday. Requires effort too.” 

He realized how he managed to resist the urge to tease her the second time. Huh, how extra kind of him. 

“Besides, being friends and being lovers don’t have to be mutually exclusive, right?”

She seemed to ponder about it for a bit before nodding with a hesitant smile. 

“I suppose you are correct,” she said.

“Unless with this conversation, you’re suggesting we should take this up a notch? Care for me to elaborate further on more _intimate_ matters?” His suggestive tone effectively made her more flustered. Her reaction was too powerful for him to resist that he thought it was time to finally tease her, which he did by reaching out his hand and placing it above hers. 

“That is—! That is not necessary,” she stammered, and he noted she wasn’t making any effort to pull her hand away. How cute. “I may admit not possessing any actual experiences to back them up, but I can say I have educated myself on those matters.”

He smiled at her revelation, not really thinking much about it until he was alone in his room.

He couldn’t fall asleep. Initially, he let his mind wander to how pleasant their nightly tea time ended. He had bid her a ‘good night,’ sealing it with a chaste kiss on her hand before he entered his own quarters. A laugh escaped from his lips recalling how shocked she looked with his gesture. It was too easy to fluster her.

Their conversations rewinded in his head, and for some reason, his thoughts had gotten stuck on Constance’s confession about not having much experiences in love.

It dawned on him that for someone like him who was no stranger to charming his way through the toughest crevices, he likewise did not have any actual experiences in love. In a genuine sense, anyway. All those past ventures, be it romantic or sexual in nature, had merely been instruments he utilized to reach different end goals. 

_No_ , those experiences weren’t love. In fact, it was entirely the opposite—he toyed with emotions, deceived through sweet words and gestures. While a part of him knew most of those scumbags deserved it, it didn’t really make him feel pleased about himself.

 _Love_. Perhaps, ever since he embraced the name of the Savage Mockingbird, he never really thought he deserved any of it.

It brought him back to his arrangements with Constance. With his sudden realizations, he couldn’t pinpoint what he felt about it. . .

He liked her though. He really did. He could say for certain that the fondness he felt for her was real. 

If only it was _that_ easy to prove to her how real those feelings were.

For one, he considered the possible uncertainties that Constance might have on him. Despite how odd she could be, he knew better than to underestimate her—he knew that she knew well enough about his underground moniker along with everything else attached to it, therefore he couldn’t blame her hesitance about the whole ordeal.

And it wasn’t just that too. It was also more about his uncertainties in himself. The methods for “love” he knew had simply been tools for him, so it certainly felt strange thinking of using them again in a more sincere sense. Especially since he had associated those tools more with “hate” rather than “love.” 

A dull pang ached in his heart thinking about it, which left him wondering why.

Was he afraid of unintentionally hurting her if he wasn’t very careful?

And with how everything started out, wasn’t he also just using her to get what he wanted? 

Then again, wasn’t she also just using him, so that made it even?

His head was starting to ache, the thoughts spiraling out of control. He shut his eyes, trying to be satisfied with the conclusion that no one was really manipulating anything, since both of them clearly laid out their intentions in the first place.

* * *

The following day, Yuri returned to Abyss earlier than usual. The orphanages were doing well, the children happy with beaming smiles, and it left him in good spirits knowing all his efforts were being put to use. 

After some chatting with the Abysskeeper, he walked down the stairway, and from the distance, he saw Constance standing by the bridge. He knew she often stayed in that particular spot to test out her experiments before confining herself again in her facility in the dead of the night.

“Oh, Yuri!” she greeted. He noticed the sword in her hand. “Perfect timing.” 

Whenever she said those two magic words, he often thought it meant the exact opposite. Even in their early days at Abyss, he was aware how fond she was of asking for assistance in her research, and while they were usually harmless—the worst he heard was Balthus complaining about having permanently-discolored trousers—he tried to avoid them if he could.

Her eyes glimmered, likely hopeful for a positive response. With a sigh, he yielded. That was no longer avoidable if he intended to spend his life with her, right?

“What do you need?” He briefly scanned her surroundings to see that four different training dummies were suspended in the air—two were by the corridors, while the other two were hanging over the water.

“Just a simple task for someone of your calibre!” She handed him the sword, which appeared like any typical iron sword. “This is a prototype of the magical sword I have developed which is capable of emitting a powerful gale force when swung in particular combinations of movement!”

It was one of the many ideas that he recalled her sharing in one of their tea conversations. It was definitely interesting to see them being more than just words. It reflected her progress too. As expected from a hard worker like her.

He allowed her to demonstrate the movements she was talking about, and after a few rounds of practicing, he performed it flawlessly like a dance, aiming his sword towards the dummies as she directed, but nothing really happened.

“Why does it not work?” she said when he tried again for the third time. He shrugged.

“Well, have you tried it?”

“Yes I have!” she remarked, inspecting the sword as he returned it. “I swear that before you arrived, those training dummies had been swaying against the wind!”

“It’s probably because we have different stances? Or it needs to be recharged or something.” He shrugged again. “Why don’t you try it again?”

And so she did, performing the same movements he had been rehearsing, though noticeably less refined, likely due to how flustered she was at her failure. It somehow didn’t surprise him that nothing happened.

She breathed heavily, before making a second attempt, which was hurried, _impatient_ —and just before any of them could prepare themselves for it, a strong gust of wind did emerge at her last strike. It produced a loud whipping sound and a force so strong that he had to adjust his footing so he wouldn’t lose balance. He swore he heard a brief cracking sound at first, but the only apparent thing his eyes noticed were the dummies swinging in rapid intervals.

His gaze turned to Constance, who looked rather shocked for someone who supposedly had seen how it worked before. Nevertheless, he clapped his hands together.

“Impressive,” he commented, “So it does work.”

She chuckled nervously at first, until it erupted into that glorious laughter she had.

“Of course! While regretfully flawed at the moment, I am sure you can foresee its use on the battlefield once I have perfected it?”

He actually wanted to point out that it’s likely a bit late for that, especially if she intended for it to be mass-produced in the markets. Then again, even if the great war was over, he figured it didn’t mean all the fighting were long finished. 

“Perhaps now is the time to—”

She no longer had the chance to finish whatever it was that she meant to say, because his ears caught the same cracking noise that was definitely more alarming than the first. In just a few quick seconds, the arched walls beside Constance crumbled and would have crushed her had he not been quick on his feet and dragged her away to safety. The sudden action, not fully calculated, caused the side of his body to crash against the stone wall parallel to what had collapsed. He recognized a striking pain erupting on his shoulder, but it was the least of his concerns as he checked on Constance who had been covering her head with her arms.

“You okay?” he asked, inspecting if her limbs had any scratches whatsoever.

“Thank you. I, I am quite alright,” she replied, obviously still bewildered but seemed to be physically fine.

The ruckus caused the other citizens of Abyss to approach and check what had happened. In the end, he managed to convince them that they had actually been observing the walls and ceilings the past few days and concluded that there was a need to strengthen the existing concrete on their walls.

Eventually, the crowds dispersed. Yuri excused himself to his quarters, the pain starting to bother him. Constance followed after him.

“Your shoulder, let us inspect it,” she said the moment they reached the door to his room. The comment made him stop moving momentarily. He never really voiced out anything about it, but she noticed anyway. He figured he shouldn’t be surprised; Constance had always been so observant.

Without wasting time, they entered his room where he quickly detached the sleeve off his shoulders.

A bruise was forming on the affected area, with a bit of skin scraped off; some of the blood had already dried and stained his clothes, though not really noticeable on the dark fabrics. He’ll likely feel some dull pain for a few days, but that’s really nothing compared to the other wounds he sustained in the war. Still, that really didn’t seem to make her feel any less guilty.

“My apologies,” she said meekly, refusing to meet his gaze as she opened a vulnerary. “This mishap is entirely my doing.”

“It’s fine, no one intended for that to happen.” A glowing light appeared on his hand as he casted a healing spell. “Guess a building inspection really is overdue, anyway.”

She was awfully quiet as she placed the bandage after some long seconds. He sighed.

“You know, I guess your sword technique could use some work.”

It finally made her look at him again, to his relief.

“Pardon?” 

“Some of your sword stances feel kinda off. I’m thinking it’s the reason why it didn’t activate when I used it.”

That familiar pondering expression returned.

“So you are suggesting that the reason why it did not activate when you held it was because the sword follows my rather awkward, incorrect way of handling it?”

“Uhh, something like that,” he replied, hoping it wasn’t too offending for her. “You think it’s possible to adjust that activating trigger thing of your magic sword after you’ve refined your stances?”

“Well, it is intended to be used by someone proficient with the sword,” she said, “It would be dangerous if held by someone unqualified.”

Case in point: Constance herself, and she likely reached the same conclusion with the way her cheeks turned pink. He would have laughed if she hadn’t been too upset earlier. 

“Since you are the expert in handling these weaponry, would you do me the favor of training me, some time?”

The resigned way she asked somehow reminded him of her disposition out in the sun. There weren’t any needless self-deprecating comments which he certainly appreciated, and it left him wondering how often she showed this rare side of her to others. 

“Yeah, we can start as soon as my shoulder recovers.”

She bit her lip, looking away. It wasn't his intention but he realized his remark made her guilty again. He sighed, then using his other hand to ruffle her hair. 

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine." He stopped when she finally looked at him, the corners of her lips slowly rising. "Might have to postpone our tea time today though. I suddenly feel a lot tired."

She nodded. “Well, I suppose you should rest. It is getting late too.”

As she gathered and packed away the medicinal kit, he walked over to his closet to get his sleeping clothes. 

“Perhaps to make up for what happened earlier, you have to accompany me here tonight.” 

It was a joke, of course, with the main intention of lightening up the mood and hopefully making her forget about the little incident. As expected, she took the bait, judging by how she froze on her spot. 

“Ah." He placed a hand over his head dramatically. "I think I even feel a fever coming up.”

“Y-you exaggerate!” she remarked, finally recovering from his proposition. The moment she looked at him was also the moment when he had just unbuttoned his upper garments. He gave her a mischievous smile just as she quickly turned around. He was by no means anything like Balthus who paraded his body like it was some piece of art, but if it meant he could see her embarrassed expression every time he did, he'd be willing to do it a couple of times more. 

He snickered loudly, already having his share of fun. He figured it was time to let her go.

"Constance—" 

"Alright."

He thought he heard it wrong at first. Her next words were rather muffled, but with their proximity he knew he heard her clearly. 

“Perhaps that is not a bad idea. . . ?” 

That night, Yuri reminded himself never to think that he'd always have the upper hand on her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the thought of Constance unintentionally catching Yuri off-guard with her sincerety, innocence, and bizarre ideas, LOL


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Constance returned to his quarters, she had already changed into her nightgown. Yuri watched wordlessly as she slowly entered the room with a pillow in front of her. She wondered if he was thinking why it had taken her longer than usual if she just had to change clothing.

It wasn't just because she had some sort of ritual to do before sleeping...! Because _fine,_ maybe she did have to remove her make-up and ensure her face was clean before slumber, because as a noblewoman being presentable was a priority, so skin care was a must—! However! That was beside the point! Because the moment she walked back into her own room, she also realized how she wasn't certain what their spontaneous rendezvous would entail.

Was it only for a single night? Or was it going to be a regular engagement just like their nightly tea sessions? Because if it was the latter, should she decide to bring along her belongings? Or what if he was actually just thinking of the former, because he did say it was to make up for her miscalculation? She could already imagine all the mocking remarks he'd hurl at her for assuming things and getting the wrong idea!

She groaned in frustration, slapping her face several times. All the questions were just causing her to stay longer than she intended to, which would possibly bring up more questions from him. The frustration reached further heights when she knew that she couldn't really get her answers unless she spoke with him again.

She exhaled hard, deciding to simply grab her pillow, embracing it tightly as she stomped back next door. She discovered him seated in front of his desk, holding a piece of cloth which he had been using to wipe the lavender pigment off his eyelids. As soon as their eyes met, she braced herself for whatever sniping that tongue of his would unleash.

"Oh, you brought your pillow," came his only remark, before his gaze returned to the small ornate mirror in front of him.

And that was it.

She tried to hide the fact how irritated she was at herself for overthinking about his reactions. Why was he so difficult to predict?!

Thinking it was much better to move on to more important matters, her eyes trailed over to the two bunk beds in the room. It was identical to what was in the women's quarters, but theirs were more _unkempt_ , for a lack of a better term. The bed on the right, which she assumed had been previously occupied by Balthus, had a stack of books over the mattress on the bottom bunk. Those books likely belonged to Yuri, and she surmised he probably made use of the space when Balthus had left.

She walked over to the bunk bed on the left, noting how its neatness was much suitable for sleeping. Careful not to let her head bump on the wooden frame, she sat by the edge of the mattress and silently watched as Yuri began clearing his desk. She noted with annoyance how her pulse raced as he made his approach. She hugged the pillow closer to herself with the hopes of it alleviating her nerves—why was she even so tremendously nervous?

"Actually, I often sleep at the top bunk," he revealed, thankfully stopping at a conversational distance in front of her. "Before, that bed you're sitting on used to be where I placed some of my things too, but as you can see, I vacated them already. Don't worry, I made sure to clean the dust off those sheets."

His remark caused her to observe him curiously. She knew Yuri was full of mysteries and she had yet to unveil all of them, but that moment was certainly one of the times when she was at a loss with the way he was acting. Wasn't he the one so eager to invite her into his room, but why did it seem like he was equally unnerved too?

Upon closer inspection of his face, it also dawned on her that in their many years of knowing each other, it was her first time to see him without any cosmetics. It was his "mask," she remembered him telling them years back, when Hapi had asked why he never seemed to leave his room without them. Balthus then jokingly made a remark about his vanity, which the other simply dismissed, as he did not want to hear it coming from someone who shamelessly showed off his abdominal muscles.

It was a fond memory, an exchange which ended up in laughter, but she had an inkling that Yuri's reasons were more than just for vanity's sake.

She felt she had been correct. Because despite how bare he looked before her, he was still good-looking, and it was really no wonder why several people had been charmed by him. She had personally heard them, of course—be it at the surface or at Abyss—how effortlessly captivating and eye-turning he could be. Perhaps, she never really understood before, because often, his overbearing nature towards her overpowered whatever charm he seemingly possessed.

And then something clicked in her head—the Yuri "now" wasn't someone he just showed to anyone. Most of them had only seen him with a donned "mask," and suddenly, everything felt _too_ intimate for her liking. All defenses were lowered, her own face likewise bare, the sleepwear that clung unto her body feeling flimsy against her skin. She held the pillow even closer like a shield, hiding the lower half of her face which was already feeling rather warm.

"Er, Constance?"

She didn't bother lifting her head, causing her voice to be muffled with the pillow pressed to her mouth. "W, what?"

He stepped closer and seated himself beside her. He seemed to be attempting to contain a laugh. Good for him for handling the situation way better than her.

"What's with the nervous look, all of the sudden?"

"I, I am not nervous," she remarked, hoping she managed to do a convincing act. Yuri said nothing about it, only stretching his arms before making himself fall on the bed.

"Well, while I think this was made for a single person, it's still big enough for the both of us, don't you think?"

A barrage of emotions surged again witnessing his nonchalance about the whole affair. On one hand, there was a strange perhaps questionable sense of relief, since she was completely expecting him to suggest it at one point; on the other hand, she also recognized disbelief with a trace of envy, because how was he capable of being so casual about jumping into an entirely different territory of intimacy?

Before she managed to gather her thoughts, he rose up, then standing.

"But of course, your comfort is my priority, so if you're not ready to handle that yet, I can always sleep at the top bunk."

She recognized the rush of heat to her head, which she thought was bizarre. Was she upset at his suggestion?

Yuri then began walking away, and without thinking, she grabbed his wrist which made him stop.

"No! I—You—We shall share a bed!"

They shall cut to the chase—that was her immediate thought. The topic of intimacy had been brought out in one of their nightly conversations, anyway, and there was no point in delaying the inevitable, because if he was keen on the engagement, so was she. She was Constance von Nuvelle after all, nevermind if she was engaging in something completely novel and unfamiliar and nerve wracking. . .for experience was the best teacher!

Of course Yuri was unaware of her internal monologue. . . His primary response was to look at her confused, eyes shifting to her and the hand preventing him from getting away.

"Uh, sure. But I wasn't really going anywhere." He gestured to the lantern. "Just planning to do something with the lights, y'know."

 _Oh_. She immediately let go.

He laughed at her embarrassment, which she chose to ignore with a huff, then settling her pillow and herself onto the bed. She shut her eyes briefly and attempted to focus on her breathing, wishing for the warmth on her cheeks to pass.

Soon enough, she knew the room was enveloped in darkness. Sensing his presence, she attempted to move herself to the other side of the bed towards the wall. . .

. . . Only for her to feel the mattress around her sinking a portion when Yuri crawled onto the bed. She felt his legs brushing past hers.

"Can I just say how adorable you were earlier? Simply can't wait to have me by your side, huh?" 

She opened her eyes, and just as she suspected, he positioned himself on top of her, his arms on the sides of her head. She traced the grin forming on his mouth.

"T-that's—!"

Before she could fully process how he pretty much trapped her, he chuckled, then poking the tip of her nose before he rolled himself off to the other side near the wall. When he began to pull the blankets over their bodies, she rose up on one elbow, feeling incredulous with what he just did.

"Excuse me?!"

He laughed. It was also irritating and unusual how she found herself getting fond of the sound of his laughter. Perhaps between the two of them, she was actually the one being feverish and delirious.

"Okay, relax, I won't try to do anything funny anymore." He turned his body so he was looking directly at her. "I promise."

She huffed again before leaning back, pulling the covers just below her shoulders. No one uttered anything for the next moments until she sensed him turning once more, lying on his back again.

"I'll be honest. This took me by surprise."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't expecting you to agree at all."

The implication that for once, she managed to catch him off-guard likewise caught her off-guard, because as much as she hated to admit it, that was a rare occurrence. One worthy of a hearty laughter from her lips, if only to celebrate such a victory. . . Or at the very least, it's probably what she would have thought and done many years ago. They were so unbelievably petty, back then.

Still, she let out a chuckle. It was much reserved in nature, lacking spite whatsoever.

"Perhaps I also considered that this exercise may be a suitable trial for our relationship too," she said, "I mean. . . if we discover something intolerable about each other in such a private space, then it is best to call off things as early as now, don't you think?"

"Pfft, well, I don't snore, if that's why you're implying."

"I-I most certainly do not, either!"

He cackled in amusement.

"We'll just have to see. Anyway, this should be nice, too. Can get pretty cold when you're the only thing breathing in a room, hmm?"

She remembered his remark how things had gotten lonely when Balthus left. Thinking about it, she could say the same when Hapi decided to leave Abyss too. For a fleeting moment, it brought her back to the days she first met Yuri in the underground, as the first two students of the Ashen Wolves.

She made a sound in agreement, and eventually, slumber came to the both of them.

Their arrangement continued for the next several days. True to his word, Yuri never really did anything inappropriate. Though she did note that whenever she was the first to lie down, it always took him a second too long to crawl over her body all the way to his usual spot on the bed. With such a mischievous glint in his eyes, she concluded he intentionally did it just to see her reaction every time.

In no time, they also decided to bring their tea sessions in his quarters; they figured the ambiance and comforts were much pleasing compared to the spacious yet frigid confines of their classroom. It had gotten to the point when they were comfortable enough to have tea in their sleepwear, though she still couldn't handle the thought of changing clothes in his presence—that deed was reserved for her own room.

She no longer really sensed any feelings of vulnerabilities between the two of them as days turned to weeks. Just like how she enjoyed telling him the progress of her various research projects, she found herself eager to know of his stories whenever he visited the surface during the day. For someone like Constance who thought idle time was wasted time for the restoration of her house and the search for knowledge, she began admitting to herself that relaxing wasn't too bad at all. In fact, the moments spent with him in his room easily became one of the things she looked forward to every single day. Most especially when he had to travel to other towns on some occasions, meaning sometimes he couldn't get back home until the next day.

 _Home_? She found it strange how she referred to it that way. While Abyss had been her abode for the past several years, she had always seen it as a temporary shelter until she could recover her family's territory again. She didn't think about it much, simply concluding that perhaps it had been a slip of the tongue.

Everything had been going fine for the rest of the days. . . Until the time when her nightmares came back.

She was no stranger to it, really; she had not really freed herself from them ever since the tragedy that befell her House.

She was right in the middle of an endless field. Despite bodies piled up on her, she could sense, somehow, that the sun was at its highest point in the sky. The unmoving bodies of the soldiers that protected her sent unbearable pangs in her heart; at the same time, they suffocated her that she desperately clawed her way out of them. . .

Only for her eyes to glance upon the bodies of brother, mother, father . . . Likewise all unmoving, bloodied.

Nothing else was alive but _her_.

No other witnesses, but the sunrays that scorched her skin, blinding her eyes, giving her the painful reminder that she was the only one that was left.

It was all too unbearable, that she no longer noticed how the tears streamed out from her face. . .

Until someone called out her name.

She woke up.

"Constance?"

It was dark, no blinding lights. She immediately recognized the familiar patterns of the bunk bed's wooden frame. She heard her name again, turning to see Yuri who had been nudging her shoulder. She recognized how soaked her eyes felt, her nose clogged, most likely the reason why she found it challenging to breathe. She sat up, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand.

"F, forgive me, I. . ."

She wasn't even certain why she was apologizing. Yuri didn't really question it; instead he pulled her closer to his body. She sensed a rapidly beating pulse, and she couldn't tell if it belonged to her or him. . . Yet she figured it didn't matter anyway; she focused on the fact how his embrace didn't feel suffocating, and how he was warm ( _not scorching_ ), alive ( _breathing_ ), and how she wasn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weather is so weird lately. . . One minute it’s raining. . . the next, the sun is shining, lol.


	4. Chapter 4

One time, Constance suggested an idea of going to the surface. It didn't surprise him at first, since he assumed she meant another peaceful stroll with the night sky above them.

Until she clarified that she meant going to the surface during the day. When he asked her why, she simply responded that she wanted him to accompany her for a visit to this newly-opened confectionery in a nearby town.

He was aware that despite her condition, Constance was the sort of person who would face the sunlight if she really needed to. Her efforts to attend the professor's classes, her intermittent visits to the greenhouse and stables, and her willingness to join the battlefield no matter what hour were enough proof that she really wasn't a full-time "Shady Lady."

On one hand, he knew there was likely some truth to what she said; after all, they knew each other well enough to know about their mutual liking for sweets. On the other hand, he knew there was also something that she wasn't telling him. Did her craving really outweigh her discomforts of going outside, especially when other options to obtain said sweets were available?

With his years of knowing her, Yuri already knew better than to accept whatever she said at face value.

Of course, it took him a while to reach that sort of judgment, because his first impression of her was surely far from pleasant. Because that imposing, grandiose way she made herself appear to others—he found it absolutely _irritating._

As he thought about it, he wasn't certain if it was merely his prior circumstances that made him easily pissed off. After all, during that time frame, he had just been pulled into a scandal which, to summarize it, involved killing his knight companions to save his old friends, leading him to be expelled from the academy. It was a decision difficult to swallow, and he imagined he wouldn't be the most patient person that time.

Though to be fair, Aelfric had already debriefed him about her—a former student enrolled a year before him. Said lady was from the nobility apparently, but for whatever reason, chose to stay underground instead of attending her classes.

He first surmised she was likely some noble brat in a rebellious stint, until he learned that she was the sole survivor of the tragedy that caused her house to fall in the war against Dagda. From then on, he actually began to feel guilty for his initial assumptions. . .

. . .Until that high-pitched, haughty laugh of hers reached his ears, along with the lines of how fortunate he was for the chance to be graced with her presence. His thoughts shifted horribly again— _that_ didn't seem to be someone he should feel sorry for. Perhaps it was also that strong, flowery scent from the perfume she used that awfully reminded him of pompous nobles, but starting then, he made it a point to avoid her as much as he could. . .

. . .Which really did not happen, because during those days, Aelfric seemed rather keen about the thought of them getting along for some reason.

He often made jokes about establishing the fourth underground house of the Officers Academy—which to be fair, really did happen the following year when Hapi and Balthus arrived—and how Yuri should be the one to lead it. To his surprise Constance did not have any qualms about it; he expected she'd at least prattle about it being her noble right or something but she resigned herself to the idea. A part of him, though, assumed being a leader was not really a priority since she was bent on restoring her house.

Still, since then, he began to see her in a different light—moreso when Aelfric made them do group tasks together. She continued to prove him wrong when he witnessed her doing her part each time, all in a "splendid" manner, even, as she often described, that sometimes he couldn't even argue about it. Which was totally unexpected because _that_ was unlike the majority of the other nobles he met in his life who pretty much made him do all the work. If anything she was acting like what every "noble" should be (and not in the way that ticked him off), and it made him wonder how someone like her, an overachiever, ended up underground instead of graduating from the academy. Aelfric never really elaborated why she wasn't fond of going back to the surface. . .

It was only until he saw her disposition in a _literally_ different light that he learned why.

Yuri had encountered many people in his life. He took pride in his ability to know how to deal with people of various characters to get what he wanted. Sometimes he likened those people to the vast collection of books in the Shadow Library—just give him moments to study them and he'd know all their contents. It was especially necessary to do in his line of work.

Some books however, still required extensive amounts of rereading to understand.

Like Constance.

She was like a loud yet peculiar open book that one might think they'd easily understand. . . Until they encounter all the plot twists every time a page is turned. Yuri himself was still trying to master the skill of bracing himself for said plot twists.

The following day came. He noticed how gradually her walking slowed down as they neared the stairway going up to the surface. He mirrored her pace until they were only a few steps away from the lines dividing the shadows of the tunnel and the light from the outside.

Constance already had her head stooped low, her hands held together as her thumbs brushed anxiously against each other. He walked ahead of her, letting himself be consumed by the sunlight. He continued to observe her as he began to feel the heat of the sun against his body.

"Well, the pastries are waiting."

She said nothing in reply, gaze still locked on the stone floor. Her hesitance reminded him of the day he discovered the reason why she preferred hanging out in the dark. That time, he couldn't understand why she was so fussy about retrieving a damn book in the monastery when she had no qualms about answering loads of arithmetic questions.

"What's wrong?" He gave her a worried look. It wasn't really the first time he would see her that way, right?

She lifted her head up slightly, eyes still not meeting his.

"You said you intend to accept me and all that is me, correct?"

He noted how reserved she sounded, though with her choice of words, he knew that the sun had not fully "consumed" her yet.

"Yes. As I would expect you to accept all that is Yuri."

His words finally had gotten her to look at him. Her eyes squinted, gaze faltering. He grew even more conscious of the stark warmth against his back.

She breathed hard, taking a step forward. Looking down, her footwear was already at the edge of the shadows, not entirely stepping out of them yet. He wondered if in her shoes, the experience was really something like entering into another world.

"Then," she said with a nod, "Let us begin."

He took her words as the cue to reveal what he had been trying to keep hidden from her sights—a parasol. Opening it caused the shadows underneath their feet to widen. Briefly, he inwardly rejoiced witnessing how surprised she looked, though her gaze lowered again soon enough.

"I am afraid this is not some simple parlor trick that would just vanquish with such devices."

He gave her a weak smile before reaching out his hand. She only looked at it.

"I figured as much," he admitted. He knew about her futile efforts in treating her own condition. One of them, he heard from Hapi, was how she attempted to create a charm capable of summoning the clouds in the sky, only to end up misplacing it at some point. He imagined it was likely a failure too—she would've searched hard for it, or _heck_ , attempted to duplicate it if it really did work. "But this can still help, right? Not sure if you'd believe me but I'm not a big fan of the sun myself. I prefer being shrouded in a little shadow than facing it head on."

To his relief, she finally gave in, accepting his hand. He pulled her to his side, guiding her hands so they were locked onto his arm. They ascended the stairway together with the parasol above them, and with a few familiar turns they reached the monastery grounds. He thought everything was going well until he sensed her hands gradually releasing themselves from him. He looked at her curiously.

"I, I am afraid this is much more suitable," she remarked, her tone exceedingly meek. He leaned the parasol more to her side despite feeling the warmth creeping on his skin. Perhaps it really was too small against the power of the sunlight?

"What do you mean?" he asked, stopping under the shade of a tree near the dormitories. Still, he noted no changes in her disposition whatsoever.

"If you allow myself to hold on to you any longer, it shall be difficult to cleanse the filth that my unworthy hands would carry over to your garments."

He looked at her with disbelief. It sounded . . . _ridiculous_ , but despite that, he couldn't really find himself laughing.

Especially when he knew how Constance was letting him see this more vulnerable side of her. He knew it wasn't easy for her, and yet she still did.

Then it started to make sense. He noticed something off about her ever since the time he saw her crying in her sleep. Neither of them really brought up what had been bothering her. . . or at least, he felt like he shouldn't, not until he knew she herself was comfortable with it.

Was this her answer then? Was it a test? Was that the whole point why she invited him out in the first place?

Because if it was, then he'd just have to prove to her how he had no intentions of letting her go.

He gently took her hand, and he sensed her feeble attempts to pull away. He let his fingers entwine with hers, securing his hand to her.

"If you must insist that your hands are filthy, who else would be a more appropriate partner but a dirty street rat?"

She opened her mouth as if she was going to retort something back, but he started leading her back to the pathways again, hoping she'd no longer argue. It was somehow effective, though her hand felt stiff against his. He began to wonder if he was handling the situation correctly. . . especially more when he became conscious of how firmly he was actually grasping onto her.

Immediately he loosened his grip, cursing at himself for such a careless action; his clients from years ago often made remarks about how charmingly 'rough' and 'aggressive' he could be. But of course he was _rough;_ he'd rather do something else if he had a better choice. Oftentimes they were intentionally done out of spite, and it's probably the only thing that made the acts 'fun' for him.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he reminded himself that he was no longer partaking in those shams. Not with her.

"Sorry," he remarked, and he sensed her turning her head in his direction. Surely, the usual Constance would have already berated him for such boorishness. "Did I hurt you?"

"Apologies are unnecessary. Perhaps it was deserved for the crime of inconveniencing you."

If said in a completely different tone, he knew he would've gotten annoyed. But hearing it from such a desolated voice, he just felt _bad_. And even more guilty.

Thinking about it, it was usually Hapi or Balthus who took turns in cheering her up when they were outdoors. He was at a loss.

"Constance. . ."

Doubt began clouding his mind that his grip began slipping away from hers, and it would have detached completely had he not felt her fingers curling hesitantly at the back of his hand. He turned to her this time, whose gaze was fixated on the ground ahead of them.

"Even though I feel as if I am greatly undeserving of it, such a gesture received from you warms me to my core. As long as you are not bothered by it, then I am not."

He observed her for a few seconds before readjusting his hand with a smile, all while digesting how selfless her words were. That's how she was, wasn't she? Especially out in the sun. Too selfless, too self-sacrificing to a fault. He couldn't count the times when he had to scold her for carelessly charging with her pegasus in an attempt to provide back-up in the war.

His brows furrowed, realizing that Constance had a knack for doing that regardless of the conditions of the sky. The only difference was the way she presented herself—one might think that her usual self was arrogant with the way she declared her name as she decimated enemies, but the fact remained that she would willingly fly herself all the way to the frontlines despite knowing how vulnerable she was for surprise attacks.

At the very core, her actions were selfless. Constance, who regularly expressed concern for the common folk despite no longer having any properties herself, was _selfless_. It was a trait that perfectly described her, and yet it's something so masterfully masked with the way she presented herself. Whether it was done intentionally or subconsciously, he couldn't say for certain, but because of that, anyone with a shallow understanding could easily overlook and dismiss it.

Constance always made comments about feeling frustrated whenever she said words that sound 'nothing like herself.' It was obvious that she had 'two' personalities, and one could easily conclude that her disposition in the sun was what she was talking about. But was it also possible that her domineering self was actually a mask she used to protect herself? To hide her true thoughts and feelings?

"Please forgive me."

Her voice snapped him out of his musings.

"Huh?"

"If you may allow me to raise my observations, I feel it is unlike yourself to be immersed in such extended bouts of silence. You need not to hide your vexation if you feel I am being an unsuitable conversational partner."

Heat rushed to his face; he didn't realize he was too deep in his thoughts. She likely mistook that for discomfort in their situation.

"I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for even suggesting this exercise. Perhaps this was an unwise decision. Should we head back to Abyss—"

"No," he quickly remarked as he squeezed her hand briefly. The gesture made her look at their linked hands. "No one's really coming back unless we get our hands on those pastries."

"Are you certain? Because if you feel like you are simply being forced to, I will not take offense and we can simply pretend none of this ever happened—"

"Yes I am," he replied even more determined. "Because I want to know you more, Constance."

The smallest of smiles made its way to her lips, and it was something he hoped to see for the rest of the day.

"As you wish," she said.

They reached the confectionery soon enough. Constance still stood rather timidly despite being indoors; the sun was just too relentless that day that it leaked through the glass windows. The crowds were a little more than he expected, and he wouldn't really be bothered by it if he didn't notice how discomfited she looked. After a quick self-deliberation, he placed an arm over her shoulder, leaning closer to her ear.

"I hope you aren't thinking that you're spreading filth with your presence again."

Her eyes lit up in surprise, a reaction he found to be . . . _cute._

"It seems you know the confines of my mind all too well already," she whispered back. He grinned.

"Just remember, I'm right here with you. The king of the rats."

"Then if you must insist you are a rat, surely, I am something even beneath it. A squalid insect? Excrement?"

He fought the urge to shake his head. It was bizarre, heck, _amazing_ how easily she could flip a statement against herself.

"You know excrement can still be pretty useful. For instance, the greenhouse. High-grade stuff from pegasi makes the crops flourish."

She seemed to want to say something back, but closed her mouth again. He followed her gaze, just to discover that they were already next in line and that the storekeeper was giving them weird looks, likely overhearing their odd conversation.

Eventually, they ended up buying half a dozen of the store's best selling pastries. He was happy to note how delighted she seemed when he handed her one; he could relate since he was excited himself—heck, he already had a bite or two!

While hers remained untouched.

"Um, Constance? Aren't you going to eat that?"

"Seeing you filled with glee already satiates my hunger. My mind has already decided to offer my part of the pastries to you."

Her suggestion was paired with such a sweet, genuine ( _distracting_ ) smile that it almost made him forget how absurd her words actually were.

"And I am having none of that. Come on, eat up."

"But it is merely appropriate to provide you the luxury of sweets instead. Especially after having proclaimed yourself as the king of rodents."

He stifled a laugh—how dare she use his own words against him! At the same time, he realized how the current Constance was just as stubborn as her other personality. He mentally noted how it was another trait of hers that remained the same no matter what circumstance.

"And the _king_ says he wants his queen to eat her treats."

She knit her brows, looking at the frosted bun between her fingers. "But such beautifully crafted pastry should only be tasted by—"

Yuri grinned as she inadvertently bit on the other side of his pastry which he shoved towards her mouth. She glared at him with disbelief ( _cute_ ) before it shifted to shock as he nonchalantly ate the rest of the bun.

"I. . . I already bit on that and yet you. . . "

"Yeah, I did," he dismissed, taking another pastry from the box, "Tastes good, right? Come on, eat it up."

"But—"

"No more arguments. Or I'll get angry."

He noticed her obvious distress at his remark which made him a little guilty, considering how the conditions made her extra sensitive. Okay, maybe he should have phrased that a lot better.

"Wait, look. Not really angry. Maybe just a little? But only because I don't want you deprived of something that I think you deserve."

His response seemed to make her ponder, and soon enough, she slowly began to move the pastry towards her mouth, only to change her mind when he saw her moving it towards his instead. He stopped her with his free hand.

"Constance," he mentioned after heaving a sigh, his patience being tested, "What did I just say—"

"If you phrase it that way," she interrupted, not really making any effort to set her wrist free, "you made me consume a part of your pastry; therefore you were not able to fully receive your deserved portion. That said, I feel I have deprived you of your fill. This shall only make it fair, shall it not?"

He blinked once. Twice.

 _Alright_ , she caught him there.

Chuckling, he gave in and allowed her to guide the pastry towards his mouth. As the icing briefly smooshed against his lips, he witnessed the satisfaction in her eyes and the growing smile on her face. He recognized his cheeks flaring up, and he knew it wasn't just because of the warm weather.

It didn't stop there, because after she finally took a bite out of her own free will ( _thank the goddess_ ), she raised her other hand, and without warning, let her thumb brush against his bottom lip.

He did not expect that. _At all._ And while he took pride in donning different masks to conceal his true emotions, he knew he was still prone to certain situations that would catch him off-guard. The lips, as he recalled reading during one of his self-studies, were one of the most sensitive parts of the body, so of course such breaches in personal space would warrant some sort of reaction in him. He'd know too, basing from all the different reactions he garnered from doing said breaching all those years. It wasn't very often that he was on the receiving end of it, however.

Whatever reaction he did likely made her assume something wrong again, as she hurriedly apologized for her actions, raising that she simply wished to rid of the sugary stain besmirching his face. Before she could sputter any more of her outlandishness, he pulled her hand back and proceeded to lick the sweet frosting from her finger. The action caused her eyes to widen, before she lowered her head to a point where he could no longer see her face; at the same time, she was also mumbling something incoherent.

Why exactly he did that, he was not certain. Sure, he loved teasing Constance if only to witness the way she reacted every time, but he also knew it was a challenge to fluster her with his usual methods when they were out on the surface.

(He anticipated, though, that she'd admonish him for such scandalous acts in public the moment they'd return to the shade).

He looked at her again. Perhaps she _was_ flustered, though seemed to be handling it in a much reserved way. Which was no fun, especially when admittedly, he was still a little flustered with the whole brushing-his-lip stunt.

Okay, _maybe_ it really was his way of getting back at her (even when she technically didn't have any malicious intent).

Goddess, she really caught him there.

The rest of the day was spent walking around the town, going through different stores and enjoying the sights. From time-to-time, he still attempted to hold her hand, which was no longer about teasing her or gaining reactions or whatnot. He discovered she really did seem to think she was unworthy of any physical affection, so of course he'd try to prove otherwise. She most often responded with such a resigned look on her face, however, which made him wonder if it was okay to seemingly force her in such circumstances. Sometimes he wished he could really see the confines of her mind.

Eventually he also made another discovery.

If physical gestures did not fluster her as much as it did when she was underground, he learned something else did.

He swore he saw her blushing when he complimented the progress of her ongoing research.

In other circumstances (i.e. underground), her usual reaction was to laugh it off, adding that such advancements in spellcraft were merely expected from someone of her character—the typical, proud Constance in other words. So it definitely came as a surprise to see her looking away with such redness spreading on her cheeks. . . He made another mental note to ponder more about those observations later on.

Soon, the sun started to set. They both took that as the cue to return to the underground.

It had been a long day, but he could say it was a good sort of tired. No pressures about time being spent, no pretenses. Which was unusual, he knew, because those were likely reasons why he didn't like the daylight so much. Less shadows meant more effort to conceal emotions that were better off hidden within. It occurred to him there had been no need to don any masks throughout his day with Constance. Especially when she was unveiling the side of her that he knew she'd rather conceal to others.

"Yuri, thank you."

He looked to her, and then by reflex, up to the sky. Splashes of orange and blue were converging in the horizons. The sun's warmth still lingered, and shadows began growing all over the monastery grounds. He realized he wasn't sure which of her two personalities he was speaking to.

He shook his head, smiling.

"No, Constance. Thank you."

In the end, he knew it shouldn't even matter, because she was still Constance, either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some doses of sweets and fluffiness can be really nice!


End file.
